


Crowning Glory

by happygolovely



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Caretaking, Developing Relationship, Domestic Bliss, Living Together, M/M, Mayor & Chief of Staff, Murder, Mutual Pining, Romantic Friendship, Tenderness, Torture, nygmobblepot week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 20:05:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14064558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happygolovely/pseuds/happygolovely
Summary: Evening Oswald wasn’t sensible like Morning Oswald or even Afternoon Oswald. To say nothing of Midnight Oswald whose fantasies were vast and varied. The truth was that any and all Oswalds at any given time were inclined to kiss Ed if given proper motivation.The proper motivation arose frequently as far as Ed was concerned.





	Crowning Glory

Heavy is the bed that holds the crown. Oswald tossed and turned all night restlessly. His mattress a bed of spikes for all the good it did him. He woke up in a fowl mood, far worse than usual. He barely tolerated mornings on the best of the days and this was hardly that. His leg was in tremendous pain and he struggled to righten himself. Slammed the alarm clock in pieces. Mechanical birds broken on the floor. A knock at the door. He swore and stuffed the birds in his bedside drawer.

 

Ed walked in with no preamble, well accustomed to his fits and furies. He handed him a single aspirin and a glass of water. Oswald swallowed it down. He should never have indulged so much at Sirens last night. He wasn’t the spring chicken he once was. Alcohol like any old friend in Gotham was not to be trusted.  

 

Ed rubbed circles in his hand. No friend, safe one. He helped him off the bed and steadied him through his morning ablutions. Their rooms interconnected by a shared bathroom. They brushed their teeth on matching sinks in synch. Traded jokes and complaints. Ed nicked himself shaving and Oswald snatched the razor out of his hand.

 

“All this time and you still don’t know how to use a blade properly.” He lathered him up with foam and laid a towel over his pajamas. “Lucky for you, I’m an old hand at this.”  

 

He carefully traced the razor over his skin. Light and steady. Ed moved his neck to the side, a single drop of blood falling down. Oswald caught it on the razor. Ed’s eyes closed.

 

He licks it off. Ed’s eyes peeked open and he quickly resumed the treatment. Wiped away the foam and swept off the towel. “Fit as a fiddle, my good riddle.”

 

Ed laughs and swats him lightly on the shoulder. “Not losing your touch in your old age?”  

 

Oswald twirls the blade through his hands and throws it into the wall. It sticks perfectly into the center of the peeling wallpaper. “Careful. You’re balancing on a razor’s edge.”

 

Smiles. “That’s precisely where I want to be.”  

 

They dress for the day separately. They met at the staircase and Ed helps him down the stairs. Any pride long since relinquished under the force of his care. He never assisted him like this in public, only in private so it could be tolerated. Truthfully there was very little he wouldn’t tolerate for him. They sit down for breakfast and share the newspaper. Oswald steals the gossip column (excellent source for blackmail material) and Ed takes finance.

 

They reconvene over business and politics, split the crossword puzzle. Oswald has no interest in it of course but takes a private delight in snatching it from him.

 

He holds up the paper. “To be in partnership, conspiracy or league.”  

 

“C-A-H-O-O-T-S.” Ed answers as he spreads marmalade on his toast.

 

Oswald fills it in. It fits. He stopped bothering telling him the letter count ages ago.

 

Ed hands him a fruit off his fork and he eats it, his eyes focused on the paper in front of him. “They are becoming reckless these days.”  

 

He shows him the day’s crossword. His own name the answer to a rather rude entry.

 

“We knew there would be objections to your reform but they are far and few between. If need be simply buy the paper and print whatever you like.”’

 

“Freedom of the press is never free, my dear. No, we must silence them in other ways.”  

 

Tonight’s gala would serve as a reminder of their influence and intent for the city. Only two years into his term, crime legalized and legitimized under his umbrella. Streets clean and television cleaner still. The public complacent and civil for the most part. Until they needed them not to be.

 

In the meantime, they kept them busy with faulty failures and momentary mishaps all of which quickly handled by their office of course. An institution carved from stone and sealed in blood.  

 

Inseparable. Insurmountable. 

 

He barely touched his breakfast and Ed tried to force something onto him but he wouldn’t budge. They argued over it in the car to work until Ed managed to shove a protein bar into his pocket. Oswald grumbled but would undoubtedly eat it later. Reporters swarmed the lobby and they marched into the fray, step in step. Ed cradled protectively around his elbow, documents in hand.To anyone else, it would have looked like simply showing him the morning reports.

 

Their offices had been merged some months ago, desks pressed together. They sat down and went at it. Assistants and secretaries came and went. Ed on the phone with the catering company, confirming the last minute change in menu. Oswald negotiating the seating arrangements. A city councilman’s mistress had been abducted last night and he needed to reconfigure the table so the wife could properly gloat. Her favor carried more weight than her husband’s.

 

Falcone next to what was left of Maroni’s crew. The Sirens seated at the children’s table.

 

Debutantes, dilettantes, and delinquents. The creme de la crime. The less refutable side of the room was filled with politicians, reporters, and law enforcement.

 

Jim Gordon’s invitation lost in the mail, what a shame.  

 

They left the office around two and stepped out for a smoke break. Specifically smoking the charred remains of the city councilman’s mistress. She roasts well. Ed held his hands over the fire as she screamed and Oswald handed him mittens. No sense getting a chill.

 

They acquire the necessary flashdrive from her handbag. All the evidence on her lover’s corrupt campaign contributions. The threat to Oswald’s re-election in two years thoroughly cooked.

 

Next stop: the library. Oswald sits on the floor and reads to the children. Little ones climbing all over his legs and knees. He glares at Ed for subjecting him to this. Ed sends him a thumbs up.

He sighs and returns to the book.

 

“They _were having an argument as old and comfortable as an armchair, the kind of argument that no one ever really wins or loses but which can go on forever if both parties are willing. “_

 

A librarian comes up to Ed halfway through the story and tries to say something. He shushes her, never taking his eyes off Oswald. “The Mayor is speaking. Show some respect.”

 

She returned to the romance novel from whence she came. Heathcliff would never have treated her like this.  

 

Finished the story and untangled himself from the horde. A few still clinging to his suit. He shook them off. One last boy attached to his ankle. He bit into it. Oswald winced. “My, what big teeth you have. Would you like to have them torn from your skull?”  

 

The boy shook his head and handed him a pamphlet on education reform.

 

Oswald nodded. “Ah, a citizen’s complaint. Very well.” He tucked it into his pocket. “Your request has been noted. Next time go through the proper channels. Although come to think of it, you’ve shown initiative -” He took out a business card. “Give me a call if you’re interested in community outreach. We have an internship program.”  

 

The boy smiled happily and took the card. He ate it.

 

“Fair enough. Good day, sir.” Oswald walked away and Ed grabbed onto his hand and dragged him behind a bookshelf.

 

“Magnificent, simply magnificent.” He fussed with his tie. “The book selection was inspired.”  

 

Sighed fondly. “You pick out the books months in advance. If you’re going to suck up to yourself, do it at home.”  

 

Ed flushed bright and brimming with self-superiority. “One cannot deny genius.”

 

“I can and will. Now get in the car. Let’s not stay here any longer than we must.”  

 

He nodded his agreement. “The staff is overly familiar. We should switch libraries.”  

 

“Whatever you prefer, they’re all the same to me.”  

 

They discuss potential alternatives to the public library. An informed populace is not in their best interests. Best to keep them well fed and poorly read. They decide not to limit knowledge entirely merely monitor and manage it.

 

Arrive at their last stop for the day. A fight club in the Narrows. They shake them down for their monthly fees. The owner does not wish to comply. Oswald rolls up his sleeves. Ed takes knuckle dusters out of his pockets and slides them onto Oswald’s hands. Kisses the rings for luck.

 

He steps into the ring weighing in at it’s none of your goddamn business. His competitors twice his size and strength. He barrels through them. Bird in a china shop.  

 

They fall bloody and barren. His boots digging into their spines. Ed cheers and whistles.

 

Steps onto the stage and holds up his hand. “LET’S HEAR IT FOR THE UNDISPUTED, THE UNDERWORLD’S MOST ILL-REPUTED; THE ONE, THE ONLY - PENGUIN!”  

 

The crowd goes wild, throwing flowers and guns onto the stage. Ed picks one up and fires it into the owner’s kneecap. Sweeps his hat off and bows graciously. Oswald takes his jacket off the pole and walks out of the cage.

 

They fall down in the backseat of the limo laughing uproariously. Ed fires off a quick text to Cherry and confirms that the pellets didn’t incapacitate her unduly. She’s a good woman to have on the payroll and indulges their play acting from time to time.  

 

They all line up for the bread and circus. Their food tainted with bone and blood. Eat it right up.  

 

Oswald’s overheated and they blast the air conditioning. A little worn out from his little performance. He still fights with the best of them but prefers to outsource these days. Ed likes him in tip-top hat shape and does his best to keep him that way. He’s developed a softness around the edges. A good life, not devoid of violence but nourished by it. Pink in the cheeks from exertion. Pink all over surely. One way to find out... rolls his window down and resists the urge to scream. His knee bouncing anxiously. Oswald places his hand on it to settle him.

 

Ed makes a confused, high pitched sound. He pulls his hand back and Ed puts it back on himself. An inch higher.

 

His touch: the only steady thing he knows.  

 

His hand on him the whole way home. Not an inch given or taken. Impasse.  

 

Oswald rests before the gala, leg elevated on a pillow. A book in his hand that he isn’t reading. All he can feel is Ed, Ed, Ed.  He’s in his lungs and doesn’t know how to breathe around him.

 

Cannot live without him.  

 

Ed comes in, a selection of suits draped over his shoulder. He holds them out with the utmost seriousness. “I have nothing to wear.”  

 

“Come along then.” He leads Ed into his wardrobe and turned on the light. An endless array of assorted artillery. “Apologies, other closet."

 

He pulled the candlestick on the wall and the room switched. Rows of suits suited for a king.

 

“Help yourself to anything you like.”  

 

Oswald sat down on a cushioned bench and watched him. He never got tired of this - undoubtedly the best part of his days. Ed spun the hanging tie rack as a child would spin a toy. Flicked through the colors, textures, and patterns. Settled on a small selection placed on a velvet tray. He held them out to Oswald. A jeweler displaying their wares.

 

He looked over them carefully. Lavender and silver damask. He wrapped it around Ed’s neck, knotted it for him. “You wear it well.”  

 

“You say that every time.” Oswald patted down on the fabric and smiled.

 

“It’s true every time.” There wasn’t a single color on the spectrum he didn’t look lovely in. Oswald had certainly tried. Put him in the most ghastly things he could think of.

 

Yellow. Turquoise. _Orange._

 

He looked beautiful. He looked hateful. Oswald prided himself on his plumage and Ed paraded around in neon green still as handsome as ever.

 

Unbelievable. Obnoxious. Unbearable.

 

Ed leaned up to pull a hat from the top shelf and his shirt rode up exposing a flash of midriff.

 

Perhaps not entirely unbearable.

 

“Give it here.”  

 

Ed handed him the top hat and leaned down so Oswald could place it on his head just so. He adjusted it. Turned him around to face the mirror.

 

“Don’t like the contrast.”  Edward fussed with his white collar. “Need something in black.”  

 

Oswald opened a drawer. “I picked up a few things for you, this should do nicely.”  

 

He handed him a black silk shirt, Ed’s hands on the material determining the quality.

 

Apparently, it was adequate because he started to unbutton his jacket and loosen his tie. Hands on the upper buttons of his shirt.

 

“Well, I’ll leave you to it.” Oswald fled the room as quickly as he could and slammed the door behind him. Thunked his head against it.

 

Ed was trying to kill him. There was no other explanation for it.

 

He sat on the bed, face in his hands. Ed had a streak for streaking. Exhibitionist tendencies. That was all very well and good. Still, he couldn’t be subjected to it so often.

 

Evening Oswald wasn’t sensible like Morning Oswald or even Afternoon Oswald. To say nothing of Midnight Oswald whose fantasies were vast and varied.

 

The truth was that any and all Oswalds at any given time were inclined to kiss Ed. If given proper motivation. The proper motivation arose frequently as far as Ed was concerned.

 

He sat on his hands with his eyes closed and tried not to think about the man in his closet.

 

His dearest friend in all the world. He wouldn’t lose him not for this, not for anything.  

 

Ed opened the door and walked out. A silver suit with a slight shimmer. Lavender and silver damask tie. Black silk shirt. Silver fob watch. Black waistcoat with silver buttons.

 

Top hat to top it off.

 

A vision. A nightmare. Possibly both.

 

“It’s not entirely repulsive, I suppose.”

 

Ed grinned and held up his hands. Who little ol me?  

 

He ushered Oswald back into the wardrobe and held up a golden brocade suit with velvet trim. Black and gold cravat. Silk shirt identical to his own, silk waistcoat with a glitter shine.  

 

“It’s a bit ostentatious even for me.”

 

Ed held it out emphatically.

 

“You were born for this role. Dress accordingly.”  

 

There was very little he would refuse him. Oswald sighed and unbuttoned his shirt. 

 

“Very well if you insist. If I am dragged through the gutter might as well be in gold.” 

 

The suit hugged his shoulders and emphasized his lines. Broad and bold.

 

Ed fussed over the fabric around the ankles until it laid just so. Lifted up his foot and tied his loafer. Then the next. Leather and laces.

 

“Shine my shoes while you’re there, would you?” Ed pinched his ankle in retaliation and stood up. Eyed him critically.

 

“It’s not enough.” He searched through the coats until he found something appropriately spectacular. Feather and fine. Gold and grotesque. More Midas than mayor.

 

It was perfect. Placed it over his shoulders. Looked at himself in the mirror. Ed draped over him, arms wrapping the fabric around him. He would happily wear this every day.  

 

Ed turned him around. “Your hair is -”  

He tugged at it self consciously. “I grew it myself, you’d think it would behave better.”  

 

Ed was barely listening, already rummaging through his vanity pulling out hair products. “Allow me.” He shoved Oswald down into a chair and meticulously recreated his signature style as if from memory. Perhaps it was.

 

“You really don’t have to do all this, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”  

 

“Your capabilities were never in question. However, you have been overworking yourself. You deserve to be pampered every once in awhile.”  Held onto his chin and examined him. “What is it I am not seeing, what piece is missing.”  

 

“Eyeliner, third drawer. Next to the pistols.” Ed opened up the vanity and found a glock, set it aside and pulled out a pencil. He hesitated briefly. He had never assisted Oswald with this part of his regime.

 

Still, he needed to complete the ritual. Compulsion and curiosity sang beneath his skin.  

 

Oswald instructed him on how to use it properly. He went slowly, methodically to ensure he wouldn’t accidentally smear it. Black lines. Pale skin. Bright eyes.

 

Their faces entirely too close together. Ed moved back suddenly, dropping the pencil. He hastened to pick it up off the floor.

 

“Well, that’s that then. All done.” He started to reach for the door, Oswald caught his wrist.

 

“Stay. I have something for you. Two somethings actually.”  Oswald moved over to the vanity and pulled out a sealed container of highlighter. He had never had occasion to use it.

 

This was good at time as any. He selected a silver cream and spread it across Ed’s cheekbones.

 

Ed shivered. “I’m not sure I should be doing this.”  

 

“You’ll enjoy it. Trust me.”   

 

Just a touch, here and there. Nothing earth shattering.

 

Ed looks at himself in the mirror. A slight shine, barely discernible. He turns his head and gleams bright as the morning. Subtle and overstated. Concealed and exposed. A matter of light and shadow.

 

He waits for the inevitable interruption from his Other Self. He has been suspiciously quiet since he started living with Oswald. Settled and satisfied for reasons unknown. He says nothing now. Merely winks at him. A knowing twinkle in his eye. He vanishes and all the remains is Ed. Oswald standing behind him with a hand on his shoulder. Ed moves his head back so it rests on Oswald’s chest.

 

“I look…..I look like something worth looking at.” He has never seen that in himself. His disconnect from his body so profound, he avoids mirrors out of habit.

 

_i would like nothing more then to look at you every morning wake up and look at you some more_

 

“You’ll turn a few heads I’m sure. You always do.” Ed makes a surprised sound. “It’s true. On the campaign trail, I remember a number of interns following you around.”  

 

“They needed clarification on policies.” Oswald laughs and covers it with his hand.

 

“No wonder you need glasses. Couldn’t recognize lovestruck if it struck you between the eyes.”  

 

“I’ll know it when I see it.”  

 

Oswald smiles sadly. “You really won’t.”

 

Ed quickly changes the subject. “You said you had something else for me? Tell me it’s not glitter.” Please let it be glitter. Ed was starting to understand the appeal. He knew Oswald used his appearance as a weapon of sorts but he never thought he could do the same.

 

“Next time. I have something else for now.” He reached into the vanity and unlocked a secret compartment. “I had this made for you some time ago, merely waiting for the right moment.”  

 

A small purple box. Ed opened it. A pin on velvet. Black umbrella closed, with intricate filigree on the sides. A single chain stretched from the handle to the top, a pearl hanging off of it.

 

He twisted the handle and the tip extended into a small blade. Ed smiled.

 

“It’s wonderful, thank you.” Oswald pinned it to his lapel and smoothed out the collar.

 

“Let them all see you by my side.”

 

Tonight was to be his debut into the underworld. They had always kept a clear delineation between Ed’s role as chief of staff and his unseen role as Oswald’s right-hand man. No longer content with being the silent partner, he was expanding his duties and taking on more responsibilities. Descending further and further into his life with every passing day.  

 

Impossible to tell where one began and the other ended.  

 

Oswald helped him out of his seat and they swept down the stairs. Oswald twirling his cane in his other hand, in high spirits.

 

Ed opened the door and they stepped into the limousine. “You have your cards, don’t you?”

 

He pulled out an extra set from his pocket. They rehearsed his speech all the way there.

 

They arrived at the newly remodeled Arkham Asylum. In shape, it was much the same as ever, only the interior and the staff refurbished. A complete overhaul of the facilities treatment plan and through screenings of every employee. They established a standard of patient care unparalleled throughout Gotham. It was the physical embodiment of New Gotham, a place marked by its’ hope and the hands that shaped it.

 

The driver opened the door and Ed walked out, hand outstretched for Oswald. He stepped into the light and a dozen cameras went off. They walked in arm and arm, stopping for short interviews along the way. A few photographers recognized Ed from their spread in Homes & Garrisons. He posed with a cheeky grin. Oswald smiled at him and missed the interviewer’s question altogether. Ed turned back and smiled over his shoulder. The twitter verse lit up.

 

#kings of gotham

 

Ed’s phone buzzed with notifications. No doubt it was the usual nonsense that popped up whenever he and Oswald made an appearance together in public. Unfounded rumors and endless speculation. He opens the app and sees a picture of Oswald smiling at him. Proud and sure.

 

Not entirely unfounded.  

 

The asylum lush and luxurious. The former cells converted into suites, each worth nearly a million a night. Recover from your suicide attempt in style. Arkham took only the most exclusive of clients, booked for years in advance. The line only moved up when someone died which they did frequently. The most natural cause of all: greed and vanity.  

 

They moved into the ballroom (constructed by Oswald’s request) and the small stage inmates used to perform upon. It was all theirs now. Madhouse to open house. The stage set, they moved into the crowd and mixed with the people.  

 

Oswald introduced him to every major player in Gotham. “Have you met my Ed?”

 

The smart ones shake his hand at least before dismissing him out of hand. The rest ignore him entirely. Oswald makes note of who showed due deference and who will be killed in the morning.  

 

They sat down at the head table and the staff arrived with silver trays. Crêpes, quiches, croissants, tarts and maple glazed kringle. Bellinis, mimosas, champagne; vodka and orange juice.

 

This was not their agreed upon menu.

 

“Ed, what is all this?”  

 

He cuts into his french toast and drizzles syrup all over it. “You didn’t have enough breakfast this morning. Something had to be done.”

 

Oswald stabs his butter knife through Ed’s shirt sleeve pining his wrist to the table.

 

“When I ask for something I want it precisely as I want it, no alterations or additions.”  

 

Ed unsticks his sleeve from the table. “You’ll enjoy it. Trust me.”  

 

He gave the signal and an electric chair was wheeled out onto the stage. Professor Strange strapped to it. Oswald smiled ear to ear. “Oh, go on then.”

 

Ed got up from his chair and onto the stage. “Ladies and gentlemen and everybody else not sitting on a cushion - welcome to tonight's festivities. You may remember this unfortunate individual from his time at the facility. He once stuffed a certificate down my throat till I choked on it.” He flicked the professor's forehead. “I have a real certificate now and a license.” He pulled the license out of his pocket.

 

Registered Torture Artist. “Everything I am about to do to you is entirely legal and sanctioned by the city of Gotham. In fact, I’d say they’d welcome it. Isn’t that right everyone?”  

 

The crowd cheered uproariously. Oswald bit into a kringle and licked icing off his hand.

 

Decadent. Delicious.

 

Ed smiled wide. Shining under the spotlight. The gleam coming off him nearly blinding.

 

He leaned in close and whispered in Strange’s ear. “Riddle me this, good doctor. Always with you and easily lost, the price to keep not worth the cost. What am I?”

 

He ripped the gag out of his mouth.

 

Strange choked through tears. “The mind.”  

 

Ed clapped his hands. “Correct!” He flipped the switch sending a thousand volts of electricity through him. Strange convulsed and writhed in pain. Ed laughed and turned the setting higher.

 

Blood poured out of his eyes and dripped down onto his shirt.

 

_your treatment ill, your patients less so - from this madhouse, we will build a home_

 

_farewell physician, good health to you_

 

Ed turned the dial to the highest possible setting. Strange’s body strewn across the stage, pieces flung into the audience. The waitstaff collected them up in glass boxes to be sold as souvenirs.

 

The city councilman’s wife stuffed one into her purse. Marjorie smiled and planned her divorce.

 

Oswald moved onto the stage as quickly as his leg would allow him. Much quicker than anyone could have anticipated. He surged forward and wrapped his arms around Ed, lifting him off the ground. “You’re brilliant, absolutely brilliant. What would I ever do without you?”  

 

“Languish and die most likely.” Oswald laughed and pressed their foreheads together.

 

“I’m sure that’s true. You didn’t have to go to all that trouble. You could have taken your revenge more discreetly.”

 

“It wasn’t my vengeance, it was yours. When I think of what he did to you- how I treated you when you were released - I should have done something.”  

 

“You have a one track heart. There’s nothing that could have stopped you from destroying Jim.”  

 

“You could have.”  

 

Oswald laughed. “Well, I’m slightly more than nothing, aren’t I?”

 

“You’re everything. More than everything. Oswald, I - I have something else for you. Wait here just a moment.”  

 

Stepped back on stage followed by a precession. Ed carrying a crown on a velvet pillow, the attendants holding a silver ball and a scepter. The scepter looked remarkably like a cane.

 

“You never had an official coronation. Allow me to remedy that.”  

 

Ed leads him through the ceremony. He pledges his vow to protect and honor Gotham.

 

To have and to harm for the rest of his days. Ed hands him the silver ball, Oswald twists it in his left hand. Spikes popping out. The scepter in his right. He holds it consideringly.

 

Good for blunt force if necessary.  

 

Ed places the crown upon his head and Oswald sits down in the electric chair covered in blood.

 

Throne built on merciless madness. Ed stands by his side with his hand on his shoulder, whispers in his ear. “Now would be a good time for your speech.”  

 

Oswald reaches into his pocket and pulls out the cards. Mental health care reform. Criminal injustice. Eliminating the police state, eliminating the police altogether. He tears up the cards.

 

Pulls Ed down into his lap and kisses him urgently, desperately. Fingers laced to crown.

 

They consume each other thoroughly and feverishly. Ed’s shine spread out across their cheeks, feathers falling all over the floor. Lost to the madness of two.   `

 

_you are my crowning glory the death of an empire the ruination of a king loveyouloveyouloveyou_

 

They resurface to the sounds of the people. Wild fear and delight.  

 

He smiles and cups his cheek. “Give the people what they want.”  

 

Oswald sighs, put upon. “Very well. For the good of my constituents.”  

 

Presses him down into the throne, legs spreading. Heart settling.

 

Ed caresses his cheek. “Lie back and think of Gotham.” 

 

They laugh and kiss. They are going to need a second throne.

 

Or a bigger one.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: happygoloony


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